


Enduring Affections

by e_wills



Category: How to Train Your Dragon (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Drabble Collection, F/M, Fluff, Hiccstrid - Freeform, Romance, Some Implied Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-14
Updated: 2018-08-14
Packaged: 2019-06-27 10:38:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 3,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15683739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/e_wills/pseuds/e_wills
Summary: A collection of Hiccstrid-centric short works ranging in rating, tone, and mature content without being explicit (see my other works if that’s what you’re looking for). All of the shorts are canon-verse (films, not the TV show). Some will be fluffy, others will be angsty. All are stand alone drabbles/short fic. If you want to burn through a bunch of romantic Hiccstrid snapshots, then I got you. PLEASE comment/give kudos if you enjoy what I do! :)





	1. Chapter 1

Astrid had spent her whole life until that point trying to be the model Viking. Hiccup noticed, from a young age, that she trained her body to be as tough and precise as the blades he sharpened in Gobber’s smithy. She moved with purpose, laughed off burns and bruises, and wore dirt and sweat like a badge of honor. Everything had been about dragons: the trouble they caused, the danger they posed, and how to best kill them. Her name graced every adult’s lips when they spoke of the next generation of dragon-slaying hopefuls. She was stubborn, hotheaded, and tenacious. All work, no play; all duty and traditions, with no patience for distractions and oddities.

And that had ruled Hiccup out.

But Astrid was far and away more than the quintessential Viking warrior. Her rough and unapproachable exterior had been softened by a new age of peace and affection for dragons. Someone else emerged in a short time, not wholly different but notably unrestrained—and Hiccup had come to love _her._  

He scrapped a juvenile infatuation for a genuine respect and adoration, for her laugh and her smile; and her surprising sense of humor and her intelligence. Instead of loving for comprising the typical example of what he lacked, he loved her now for the unique person she was, with all her depth and mystery. She intrigued him, the way she played coy when fishing for a favor, and the way she bit her lip when she was excited. No one else on Berk did that; no one else absently touched his hand or his arm with such tenderness. And no one, that he knew of, sought him out simply because they enjoyed his company. But Astrid did.

While their friends still enjoyed rough-housing and bawdy jokes, she preferred talk of what the dragons brought to their village and what Berk had the potential to be. Instead of arm-wrestling and mischief, she raced Hiccup through the skies on Stormfly. Peace had not inhibited her, it had elevated her; and everything Hiccup had ever believed about Astrid Hofferson either changed or paled in comparison to how he knew her now.

“Hiccup?”   


He was pulled from his reverie by a hand waving furiously in front of his face. Astrid was hovering beside him, nose crinkled in a way he didn’t dare tell her was cute. He had been staring—but Astrid had been training, and he was only human.

“Sorry,” he replied sheepishly. Clearing his throat, he returned to the sketches laid out on the ground in front of him.  


“Honestly,” she sighed, “sometimes it’s like you’ve never seen me before. I’m just another girl with an axe.”  


“Astrid, you are anything but that.”  



	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Astrid appreciates the small scars on Hiccup’s hands.

Hiccup’s hands and forearms were peppered with small burns and scars from many years spent working the forge. Callouses marked his long, industrious fingers; but he did not consider them noteworthy next to the mangled flesh of his left leg. Astrid saw them as beautiful and unique as his freckles: another thread in the fabric of what made Hiccup stand out. He denied any such appeal, trapped in the mind of an awkward fifteen-year-old. Scars were ubiquitous to a Northman’s hard living, and his were a novel tale of all he had learned and all he had done: how he had crafted a new world with naught but his talented hands and persistence.

Her lips traced the old wounds, lingering on the more prominent scars and admiring her lover’s tenacity in tempering Berk into his incredible vision. He responded only with polite confusion and humility, spouting jokes of his clumsiness and denying the strength of spirit even minor scars represented.

“It’s only proof that my brain works too fast for my hands,” he said.  


Astrid kissed his scarred knuckles. “No, babe. It’s so much more than that.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raging hormones turn the tide of relationships.

Astrid wasn’t sure when it started. Yes, she had liked Hiccup for quite some time; but there had to be some imperceptible moment where things shifted. Or maybe is was a gradual turn, from hugs and chaste kisses, to lingering touches and skipped heartbeats? 

One day, Hiccup was her adorable, awkward boyfriend, with a freckled baby face and kind smile. The next, he was taller, broader, with a sharpening jawline and warm hands. He had noticed that _she_ noticed; and there came an undercurrent to every one of their interactions that appeared innocent on the surface level. But that was just an exercise in self-restraint. Whatever it was that afflicted them was persistent and in the blood, worsening by the day. Astrid found any excuse she could to touch him, really noticing how he felt beneath her palm, whishing she could appreciate more skin than wool.

She wondered how potent Hiccup felt it, until he approached her behind the storehouse after a particularly rousing dragon race. If they needed a spark, then that kiss was the flint; and Astrid just as eagerly pressed into him as he pulled her close.

_Whatever_ it was that afflicted them was relentless, fundamental—and oh, so welcome.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank Thor for patient, forgiving boyfriends.

“I’m sorry!” Astrid whispered between her fingers.

Her hands were clasped over her mouth, and wide eyes followed the amber puddle as it spread over the table, reaching out like careless fingers. Hiccup’s mug lay overturned, rolling at the margins of his parchment. His hands were drenched, his pants and tunic were unpleasantly wet; and Snotlout cackled; the twins snickered; and Fishlegs glanced back and forth between Hiccup and Astrid like he sensed a harsh wind blowing.

Hiccup supposed it was not entirely any _one_  person’s fault. He had left his drink there with foolish optimism. Astrid became more theatrical as she drank and he had neglected to remember. The mug had been precariously placed by his latest design: a flight suit, so that he may share the sky alongside Toothless. He was proud of it, even as it soaked up ale like parchment could thirst.

“I’m so sorry!” Astrid squeaked.  


Hiccup sighed, plucking the sketch from the remains of his ale. The charcoal bled black rivulets that splattered like tiny spiders in the creeping alcohol. He was no stranger to ruined designs and plans: when a much younger boy had sketched weapons, Snotlout saw fit to burn them on the regular.

Astrid looked pale. Remorse flitted about her eyes, like water, in the dancing light of the fire pit and sconces, settling in the stark shadows of her face.

In all honesty, Hiccup wasn’tthat upset. Drawing served to help him plan, and to quiet the creative fervor of his brain; but the images didn’t fade until they were realized. He could draw it up again, fixing the minor things his critical eyes had already picked apart before crafting had even begun.

“Kiss me, and I’ll forgive you,” he said, holding her with a pointed glance that he hoped was more than a suggestion.  


The other teens groaned and pretended to retch—but Astrid was relieved. He knew she glazed over when he shared the finer, technical points of his projects. Still, Astrid was supportive, impressed by his genius; and that was enough for Hiccup to forgive her for just about anything.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Silly adolescent games.

“You want to play _what?”_  Hiccup asked, mulling over the necessity of having friends; what ever made him believe he wanted them in the first place?

“ _Sit,”_  Ruffnut insisted, pulling him down into the empty spot beside her.  


His hands were full of his latest designs, sketched down on parchment, but he might as well be carrying nothing at all for the weight his friends gave his ideas. The drawings fell to the floor, scattered like leaves, as he unceremoniously landed beside Ruffnut. Never mind that his brain was buzzing. Vacuous adolescent games were afoot, and they apparently took precedence over everything else. 

“The rules are simple: you tell one of the people at this table that you like them—it doesn’t have to be true—and if they blush or get uncomfortable, you win!” Snotlout explained.  


“Is there drinking involved?” Hiccup muttered. “This seems like a game where drinking’s involved.”  


The other teens just laughed. He nudged his drawings under his seat where they wouldn’t get trampled.

“Maybe Hiccup should go first, since he’s so agreeable and all?” Tuffnut suggested.  


Hiccup frowned. “No.”

“I’ll go first, then,” Astrid piped up, leaning on her elbows.  


“Don’t start with Fishlegs this time. That’s low-hanging fruit,” Snotlout said.  


Fishlegs puffed up. “Hey!”

Astrid smirked, pinning Hiccup with a stare that made the bottom drop out of his stomach. Foreboding raced the length of his spine, settling in his brain and screaming at him to flee, to find an excuse. But _Astrid_  was look directly at him and into him; and he was soldered to the bench with damning fascination.

Were smoldering eyes against the rules? He decided they definitely should be. The expression on her face was materialized straight from his more indecent fantasies, and that just couldn’t be fair.

“I like you, Hiccup Haddock,” she said with a voice to match.  


The use of his last name was overkill. Honestly.

_“Ooohhh!”_ Snotlout cried, slapping the table. He was a little too pleased with the results. “And Hiccup’s out on the first round! How _embarrassing_!”  


“I’m surprised you could even see him blush under all those freckles,” Tuffnut said.  


Astrid’s stare had turned from intense and scandalous to something coy. She kept her eyes on Hiccup, beneath long lashes. Unless he was mistaken, there was a faint tint to her own cheeks that she hid deep in a long swig from her mug—but nobody else was paying attention.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Astrid hates to lose. Good thing her feelings for her boyfriend are stronger.

Wrong, wrong, _wrong._ Everything is just wrong.

Astrid dismounts Stormfly with a little too much fury, knees almost buckling as her feet hit the ground hard. She grasps onto her saddle to keep her balance as her dragon growls with concern. Thankfully, no one is around to see her fumbling efforts, and she pats her dragon as she squashes down pangs of embarrassment.

She’s just about to coo, reassure Stormfly that she’s alright. Her dragon could almost make her forget her anger. But a familiar shadow circles overhead, drawing closer, and she feels the momentary softness for her dragon eroding into an edge.

Toothless lands nearby, and Hiccup’s sat astride him looking smug— _too_ smug _—_ Astrid is too competitive to congratulate him on the win. His win; which should have been _her_ win, undeniably.

“You nearly knocked me out of the sky, cutting me off!” she snaps.  


Hiccup’s grin falters. “You really think I’d do that? Give me some credit, here, Astrid. I was having some fun.”

She turns away, fuming, pretending to busy herself with nothing at all.

“I didn’t know I was supposed to show restraint in a race,” he says, dismounting as well.  


She squares her shoulders, resolved to pull away should he touch her. “The black sheep was clearly mine. Then you have to go pull _that_  stupid stunt. I guess winning races are just that important, huh?”

“No. But they are to you.”  


She whips around, armed with a sharp rebuke—but he’s grinning again, pointing to the baskets and the sheep bleating helplessly therein. The animals are being tallied, the crowd is cheering, and that is unmistakable black wool in her basket.

“Wait.” She scrunches her eyes closed. “Did you—?”  


She’s declared victorious for all of Berk to hear, and her boyfriend just stands there so insufferably pleased with himself. It’s maddening. And adorable.

Her temperature rises, and she’s glad her pale cheeks are colorfully painted to mask the red erupting beneath. She feels foolish, but only a little. Hiccup is no less reckless for being romantic.

She gives him a soft, backhanded swat to his shoulder. “I hate you,” she mutters.

He cannot stop smiling. “No you don’t.”


	7. Chapter 7

Hiccup had to leave. Astrid knew that. It was not the first time, nor would it be the last. One would think she would have grown accustomed to it—she _was_ the fool who had fallen in love with the heir to Berk seven years ago—but watching him fly off never hurt any less. It stung just as sharply as it ever had, and the nights spent alone were very bit as long and empty.

She seized whatever opportunity she could for every last ounce of her husband’s affection, to prolong each minute keeping the dawn at bay. They fought against time to hold to the night, but time always won. Each kiss held the knowledge that it might be the last for a while, so Astrid claimed his lips for as long as held breaths would allow.

She found comfort in the fact that Hiccup needed her as much as she needed him; that he found any distance between them undesirable. But he had duties and Berk was a demanding mistress, calling on him to make diplomatic trips, and attend every pertinent _þing_ on her behalf. He left with the best apology that he knew how to give: whispering his breathless regrets between rolls of his hips.

It hurt, knowing what she would be missing in his absence, and for how long she would be missing their bodies pressing together. But more than that, she would be missing _him_. Words were not adequate to explain better than her lips on his neck; her gaze holding his; and her hand sweeping over sweaty skin, down the length of his spine. Loving someone—loving him, in particular—was painful, and she was just enough of a masochist to put herself through it over and over again; nothing ever changed—the definition of insanity. But Hiccup was worth the hurt, and to him, she was too. So, Astrid breathed him in to refresh the memories that would act as a salve until she could hold him again. 

Love was life’s most exquisite torment.


	8. Chapter 8

Everything changed so much, so quickly—and Hiccup had been unconscious for most of it. The last he could remember, the Red Death’s colossal tail loomed out at him from spreading flames; he and Toothless barreled toward it, unable to stop. The next thing he knew, he was waking up to a Berk that embraced dragons and _him:_ an unfamiliar and confusing world. 

What was to become of them—an entire village of Vikings, who spoke with their weapons and thought with their fists? What was to become of Hiccup—suddenly thrust into the public eye in a positive light; and missing a substantial part of himself, making daily living an arduous task of relearning how to do basic things? There was no book, no manual for this.

But one hand in particular reached out to him. With slender fingers and a tight grip, Astrid had told him to come along. Everything was different, and he had concerns and questions; but her smile reassured him he did not need all the answers right now—they would come. He would figure things out, _they_ would figure things out, and they would bring Berk with them.

In the meantime, there need only be exhilarating flights and stolen glances. Hiccup could survive and mend on Astrid’s laugh and friendly embraces. He had wanted nothing else for so long, and there she was, by his side to help build the future— _his_ future, that he had envisioned for his people.The howand the why were still a mystery to be solved; but they believed, in dragons, in _them_. 

So, Hiccup and Toothless soared through the clouds, chasing blonde hair and blue scales. It was all so new, Hiccup was afraid to blink lest it be gone again. He was alight with a real purpose and drive. Nothing was ahead of him except opportunities, and they were within reach for the first time.

He and Astrid landed their dragons on a sea stack. The waves rolled beneath them, and the skies were bright and clear above. Adrenaline still raced through their veins as they dismounted. Hiccup struggled and swore, his leg giving him difficulty—but Astrid was right there. She had a hold of him, he had a hold of her. They were both windswept and breathless, sharing a smile that was as comfortable as their close proximity. 

Because _this_  was everything—the fire that raged in both of them—and they were getting used to it.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sad, elderly feels.

Astrid sat there, carding arthritic fingers through strands of gray and remembering fondly the way they used to glow a brilliant red on summer afternoons. That had been years ago, but still her husband would lay his head in her lap—all weary bones and deflated muscles since she could longer train as she used to. Hiccup did not seem to mind, resting with all the same contentment of the young man he had once been, so full of life and wonderment.

He was still in there, that twenty-year-old, peering out at her through tired eyes in a nest of compounded wrinkles. Years of running a village, maintaining fragile peace with their neighbors, and an unspoken, unyielding grief at the loss of the dragon that had helped define him had taken their toll. Even Hiccup, so resilient of spirit, could not thwart the march of time.

His breathing was shallow and Astrid watched the rise and fall of his chest to ensure he was still with her, that he was still well. She was not any more spry than he was, having traded her youthfulness for wisdom with the best of them; but she watched over him anyway. 

They were as the candle by the bedside, gradually diminishing in the impending night, evermore used up. She had to keep watch, for the candle would inevitably burn itself out, and she could not bear to miss a moment of its fleeting brilliance.


	10. Chapter 10

The light was dying. Over the tops of the trees, it raged with its final breath in a brilliant hue of orange. So rich, so defiant in its final moments, it filtered down through the tall, darkened trees. Shadows stretched out across the forest floor; creeping black fingers searching out the last vestiges of daylight to strangle into night. Only the rare beam of fading gold could be seen—fading pleas of the late evening—providing playgrounds for dust and pollen to float like faeries in the summer breeze.

Astrid was tired, her shoulders aching from repetitive swings of her axe. How many pounds of lumber had she carried to their camp? She had no idea, giving up her estimation somewhere in the laughter of a friend. It was much more pleasant to mull over green eyes flashing in her direction and ignore the strain on her biceps.

Hiccup was, after all, a friend; a fact she often lamented in the short life of their camaraderie. Not long ago, she despised him.

With the sweat dripping from her brow and beading along the nape of her neck, she let her mind wander to possibilities. She did not often daydream, for the glossy-eyed look it gave her, but Hiccup was a few paces ahead. His long legs granted him that advantage. He was getting taller.

In the dusky atmosphere—the gray and purple haze of the setting sun—he would not make out the adoring smile that followed behind him. He was oblivious to more than just the near double load of wood Astrid carried compared to his bundle. But she did not mind, soothed by the analgesia of her slowly simmering affections for him.

Maybe she would tell him? One night, when the others were in bed and the campfire lit his face just right. Perhaps then she could tell him what she thought, how she felt; how she noticed his auburn hair so spectacularly carried the passionate red of the dying sun.

 

 


	11. Chapter 11

If the moon and the stars were capable of jealousy, they would look down with contempt as Astrid waded into the midnight stream. Silver dots rippled in the water around her waist—reflections of the night sky overhead; which only served to draw attention to a more incredible figure in their midst. The moonbeams shone down through the trees, caught in Astrid’s long hair with starlight. Her pale skin was luminous—almost ethereal. The forest and the heavens, in all their natural majesty, could not eclipse her beauty; as if they were made to complement her. Try as they might, every surrounding wonder dulled in comparison.

“You’re staring,” Astrid said, gazing up at Hiccup; he stood on the bank, afraid he might ruin the moment if he joined her.

They came to the stream under the cover of night to bathe together as they sometimes did. Hiccup never intended to let a less than innocent part of his brain intrude on the excursion—but his heart was weak, and his restraint was weaker.

He didn’t want to speak his thoughts aloud. He couldn’t; it would be so crude. But the need had to be all over his face, silent yet obvious. Better that it was Astrid’s move, commanding all the pieces around her to her liking. She deserved nothing less.

He hesitated. She knew him well enough that he didn’t have to ask and she didn’t have to pry.

“Milady…” he said, neither a question nor a statement; rather a soft plea for her to set the tone before he made a fool of himself by expecting too much.

She just smiled, more radiant than the fullest moon. Her hand reached out in invitation.

 


	12. Chapter 12

Astrid was a force of nature; but which one, Hiccup couldn’t say. She raged with the both the heat and tenacity of a wildfire, but could freeze a man with her icy stare. Being on her bad side was not advisable; she rolled her opponents over like a tidal wave. She was unstoppable, yet as steady as a distant summer thunderstorm.

Even her affections left a man breathless. Her touch could sear the skin. A life with her was like a permanent euphoria: the last stages of drowning in her undertow. But if love was like dying, then it was a good and peaceful end; and Hiccup embraced it.

She was everything to him: the earth and the sky; the salt of the sea and the salt in his blood. Their lives had become inextricably entwined. She surrounded him and penetrated him, down to the very essence of who he was. He was lost, giving in to the tempest, the maelstrom, the perfect  _rush_  that was Astrid.

On some nights after the storm had blown itself out and there was a calm to the delightful fury, Hiccup could hold that otherwise unrelenting power in his arms for a time, until it swelled anew. Even then, a few veins of lightning could be stirred by the friction of her palm sliding over his.

**Author's Note:**

> If you like what I do, please leave kudos. Comments are even better! Even if they just consist of unintelligible all-caps keyboard smashing. I write for free. What takes me hours to write only takes you seconds to leave a little appreciation for! :) Please and thank you! I’m also on Tumblr: e—wills.


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